


Shut me up

by YulianaHenderson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, but this is beyond bad, i enjoyed writing this tho, i have always been bad at writing smut, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YulianaHenderson/pseuds/YulianaHenderson
Summary: "'Thought that would shut you up.'She stormed away without giving him any chance to say something else, and the sound of her boots touching the ground quickly faded away, until she was too far to be heard."Takes place after 5x17.





	Shut me up

**Author's Note:**

> I often wondered what could have happened after the (aggressive) 'I love you' from May, if only Coulson had gone after her. Well, this is the result of that, and perhaps a little bit of my fantasies for these two. Can you blame a girl for dreaming?  
> Also, this story is probably not as explicit as it could/should be, but I'm still labeling it as explicit just so I won't offend or trigger anyone. Also, Daisy is in this (not how you think, duh), but that was just my ridiculous side rearing its ugly head. Don't mind her! It's just that her 'soooo you made out with May' triggered something inside this fic and I couldn't remove it anymore. Once it's written, it stays there.

“Thought that would shut you up.”

She stormed away without giving him any chance to say something else, and the sound of her boots touching the ground quickly faded away, until she was too far to be heard.

He was still trying to catch up with what had happened. He had expected her to talk business, talk about FitzSimmons and Elena going rogue, but he could not have anticipated a conversation like this. He wasn't ready, and that was probably exactly the reason why she had wanted to have it in the first place.

She had often managed to render him speechless, and with his tendency to ramble, that was quite a feat. But this was different. She hadn't allowed him to speak. This was her time. Her moment to speak her mind, something she so rarely did.

_“I love you.”_

The words were filled with a kind of anger, as though she also hated the fact that this was a thing now, but she couldn’t help herself. They weren't ready for this, and even if they were, she deserved so much better. For all they knew, he could die tomorrow, and then she would be left alone, again, death taking yet another person she loved.

He set out to follow her, but when he couldn't find her in her room, he was wrecking his brain trying to think of where she could be.

The lighthouse. She was the kind of person to hide in solitude when things got hard, explaining why she had liked piloting the bus all by herself, and knowing that the lighthouse granted a nice view, confirmed her whereabouts to Coulson.

He found her standing in front of the window, looking outside, her arms crossed but he could see she was still trying to shake her anger.

“May-"

She shook her head, effectively shutting him up. He didn't want to ruin this anymore than he already had.

“I can see why you want to kill me.”

She scoffed.

“Wouldn't make it better,” she muttered.

No it wouldn't. For him, it was an easy way out, but he could see how difficult it was for her, to think about his mortality, the fact that he could die any moment.

“What can I do?”

“Stop making stupid decisions.”

“I can't promise anything.”

She sighed and turned around, her arms still crossed. He was never afraid of her anger, knew she wouldn't do anything to him - well, he hoped, anyway. Yet her anger had subsided a little, to be replaced by… it seemed like frustration.

“I can't protect you if you keep being reckless.”

“I don't need protecting.”

She raised an eyebrow in annoyance. He was almost amused. She sighed again and stepped closer to him, but her arms remained folded against her chest, anger still like a tiny flame in her eyes.

“I'm sorry for being stupid.”

She shrugged. “You can't help it.”

She turned away again as they were silent for a while. She walked back to the window, looking outside, and the moonlight shining onto her face pushed him over the edge. She had said the words, he knew how difficult that was for her. She deserved the same.

“I love you, too.”

She remained silent for a long time, all the while he was looking at her, not expecting a reaction from her, knowing who she was. But when they had been standing like that for minutes, her back still towards him, he felt the need to get closer to her. Even if it was just beside her. He would take anything.

“Why did it take you so damn long?”

He opened his mouth to say something but her sudden movement stopped him, putting her lips on his, her arms around his neck, and he didn't need a single second to register what was happening, but even then his brain went into overload, not believing what was happening.

When they parted for air, his arms wrapped around her so tightly he doubted she could get any air, but she didn't protest.

“I love you,” he whispered, now that the words were out in the open he felt the need to repeat them, over and over, make up for all the years he didn't say them when he should have. “I'm sorry for the way I acted. I should have listened to you-"

She shut him up again by pulling him down so they could link their lips, and he learned from his mistake, not uttering another word. She wanted a kiss, and she deserved it. He was only too happy to grant her that.

She started off gentle in her needs to get close, but he noticed she was still angry at him when she roughly pushed him to the ground and climbed in his lap.

“Melinda,” he breathed, kissing her lips, then moving to her neck, but he willed himself to slow down when he felt her hands underneath his shirt. He didn't want them to make love on the floor, she deserved better than that.

“Just put your hands on me,” she whispered, though it sounded more like air passing without carrying any words. She stood by her words when she grabbed his hands and put them on her hips, and he could barely resist, but no, _no_ , they were not going to do this here, he would be the wiser of the two.

She was pissed, and he couldn't even begin to imagine what sex with angry Melinda May would be like. But he knew that when her anger would dissipate enough, she would get angry again at finding out they'd had sex on the floor.

“Bed,” he gasped, and got up, his joints creaking, he was too old for this, but damn he had waited for this for too long, and he wondered why they had waited for this in the first place. He heard her cursing behind him but she was following him, and as soon as he stepped into his bedroom, she shut and locked the door behind them, but whereas she had been angry before, the short walk to his room seemed to have calmed her down enough not to attack him on the spot. She did shrug off her jacket, though, and he swallowed, wondering whether this was really happening.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, as some sort of last resort, trying to give her back what they had been before all of this, trying to return to normal. He didn't know what normal was.

“Take off your coat, Phil.”

“Okay.”

She approached him and pulled him close, and then kissed him again, the goodness of her persona flowing into him, the love he felt coming off of her like waves of the ocean confirming his own love for her - he loved her. What were they waiting for?

He turned them around and pushed her onto his bed, and her eyes lit up, a tiny smile pulling on the corners of her mouth.

He pulled out his belt from the hoops of his pants, and as he stepped closer to the bed, her needy hands pulled his shirt up and she paused, briefly, looking at his chest, where his scars were getting worse with the day, the death he had managed to avoid catching up with him.

“I'm dying.”

She pulled his face down and their lips met in a kiss again, her tongue searching for his, and if it was possible, he gained ten years to live, his heart beating frantically in his chest. She didn't say anything to counter his words, because it was useless - he _was_ dying, and there was nothing they could do about it. She would try, but he knew she wouldn't succeed. To no fault of her own.

She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, her strong thighs grounding him, and if her legs weren't already keeping him from getting away, her eyes sure were. She pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a practical bra holding her breasts in place, and he hadn't really expected anything else from her, but the sight was still so incredibly sexy that he had to take in a deep breath to prevent himself from fainting, as all of his blood rushed south. He had seen this all before, almost a lifetime ago, but this was real, this was not a mission. They were doing this for themselves.

“Damn."

He could see she hesitated between kissing his lips again, or getting off her bra, and that little pause was enough for Phil to surprise her and turn their positions around. His head was swimming, and he liked to think it was with love, because he was a romantic, but her knee bumping against his erection brought him back to reality.

He kissed the skin in her neck and she let out a sigh, her hand in his hair, or, what little was left of it, and he smiled - she was probably still pissed, but so far she had not shown any intention of stopping where this was quickly leading to.

He kissed the swell of her breasts, before reaching underneath her and unhooking her bra, deftly relieving her of it. She smiled.

“Less fumbling,” she whispered. “Impressive.”

“No one's watching. I don't do well with an audience.”

She chuckled. She actually chuckled, and this time, his heart swelled, and his cheeks hurt as a massive grin spread across his face. And now she smiled, her hands going up to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“If you don't want to do this,” she whispered, “we'll stop. But I want you to know I don't really want to stop.”

“Neither do I.”

He accompanied his words by kissing her breasts, and her attempts at bringing some sense into them disappeared into thin air as her head fell back and her lips parted, and he looked up at the beautiful sight before him, and he knew he wouldn't stop this for anything in the world.

His lips went lower to kiss her belly, her belly button, until her skin dipped underneath her jeans and he almost pouted, before he found a quick remedy to his problem - he hooked his fingers around the edges of her jeans and pulled them down, smiling as she quickly threw off her boots to make it easier for him to pull off her jeans. Her socks he took off immediately, and then her legs were bare before him, covered here and there with bruises, scars, but it proved to him how much of a bad ass she was, more than any of their friends combined, saving lives and looking good while doing it. He kissed his way up her left leg but from the corner of his eyes he saw her most recent injury, and he abandoned his mission briefly to look at it.

“Does it hurt?”

She nodded, but then shrugged. “I've been through worse.”

He put a hand in the back of her knee, causing her to bend it, and his eyes widened when he was confronted with the true extent of her injury.

“Oh my god, it went all the way through.”

She rolled her eyes at him and with two fingers holding his chin, pulled him back up, but he couldn't help place some kisses on her naked body on the way there. They kissed, some lazy movements of lips, until their hunger reignited and she reached for his trousers, undoing the button and the zipper, and as he was about to shrug it off, she pushed him onto his back again, and without any clothing covering her skin, he could see and feel the strong muscles in her body working, and it shouldn't have been such a turn-on, but it was. She could end him with just a flick of her wrist, and yet she was deciding to let him live, no, more than that - she was trusting him with her body, with her heart, and he knew how difficult that was for her, to trust someone this deeply.

“I love you,” he whispered, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she hadn't heard him, but the dilating of her pupils told him she had.

The only clothing left between them was their underwear, but that was soon gone, too, and then they were laying there, completely naked, looking at each other, as though they were afraid that the other would stop this, pull back, regret the decision that had been made to end up in this bed together. It was her hand lightly touching his shaft that convinced him that they would finish this, one way or another.

“Condom?”

He shuddered at the word, wanted absolutely no barriers between them, but if she wanted it, he would use it.

“I'm clean,” he whispered. More than clean - he had been celibate for longer than he liked to admit, at least since… Rosalind… and even the few bed partners he'd had in his life were scarce. His heart swelled at the idea that he would add Melinda May to that short list. She would be his last, he knew that, but rather than letting that thought cloud his mind, he saw it as another reason to enjoy this to the best of his abilities. He didn't know if he would be her last, so he was really determined to make this good.

She sighed in relief. “So am I. And I'm on the pill.”

“How do you want thi-"

He was interrupted by absolute pleasure, as she had taken his shaft and had brought it to her opening and had lowered herself fully, until he was completely burrowed inside her, to the hilt.

“Oh God,” he panted, “Melinda.”

He was overwhelmed with emotions, love, pleasure, lust, everything swimming on the surface, and he thought he would black out for a moment, the feelings too much, his brain overloading. Maybe he did black out, he honestly wouldn't be able to tell at that point.

Two firm hands against his chest made the color return to his eyes, and he found Melinda towering over him, her eyes closed in bliss, her lips parted like before, but there was more pleasure to her expression, more bliss, and he wondered if her brain was overloading, too, considering she wasn't moving.

“Melinda.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he saw in her eyes his entire life, not just his past, not just his present, but his future, too - she was the woman he wanted to grow old with, but they already had for the past few decades. They might have had some partners in the past, but they had known each other since the Academy, and he had grown old with her.

“Oh, Phil,” she breathed. Hearing his name from her lips, overcome with pleasure and passion, was the sexiest thing he could ever think of. He loved the idea that he was making her feel so good. “I love you.” Okay, maybe the second sexiest thing.

He put his hands on her hips and started moving, thrusting up, and it made another sigh fall from her lips, and he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again, and so he did just that, thrusting up, clutching her hips even tighter, and he was lost in the sight of her, so beautiful, in the throes of passion, so… her.

He thought of flipping them around, but he liked that she was on top, yet he wanted to touch her and still be able to thrust into her, so he settled for sitting up, his arms around her tightly, and she seemed to snap out of her initial, well, shock, because she looked at him now. The love in her eyes almost sent him over the edge.

She kissed him, deeply, tongues battling, but she still managed to move in his lap, moving around his shaft.

“I will not last long,” he whispered, and he wished he was twenty years younger, because maybe then he would have been able to make love with her properly, but she merely smiled at his words and shook her head.

“Neither will I.”

She turned them so when she let herself fall to the bed, her head landed on the pillow. He was seriously impressed by how strong she was, but he already knew that. He was glad, however, that she wasn't any different in the bedroom.

“Make love with me,” she whispered, almost pleaded, and he wouldn't dare let that demand be stated twice, so after having her wrap her legs around his waist, he thrust into her, sending her up the mattress a little, her eyes rolling back in her head, and he wrapped his arms around her to prevent her from crashing her head against the headboard. Her hold on him tightened, so apparently she didn't mind being crushed by his weight.

He was quickly losing his mind as he thrust into her, she met his movements by raising her hips, and their lips met again, her hands in the back of his neck pulling, spurring him on, until everything he saw was red and Melinda May, writhing underneath him in nameless pleasure.

It wasn't long until they rose to a crescendo, tears running down her cheeks, and her moans started getting higher and louder, and damn, he loved that she wasn't quiet in bed, loved that she let him know exactly what he was doing to her.

“Ohmygod,” she gasped in one breath, her voice significantly higher at the end. Her hand started hitting his shoulder and he looked at her face, and right in that moment she came, her orgasm crashing over her, her head falling back and her lips forming a perfect ‘O’. She was so beautiful, even in orgasm, especially in orgasm. Her contractions around his shaft were making it difficult for him to hold on, but he wanted to look at her a little longer, so caught up in her pleasure. He was in awe by her, so much so that she looked at him once her orgasm ebbed away, and she was getting restless.

“You're not moving,” she whispered, still out of breath. He was silent for a while.

“It would seem so.”

“Any reason why?”

“I love you.”

She smiled, her hands cupping his cheeks, and her hips started moving when his weren't.

“Come for me,” she whispered, though it almost sounded like an order, “let go. I've got you.”

And he would never disobey her, would always do whatever she wanted, so it wasn't a complete surprise that after only a few thrusts, he came, losing his sight for a moment, fireworks exploding, and it were hands on his face that reminded him that he was in fact in heaven. He had to be in heaven, or else she wouldn't be there with him, so intimately, loving him so infinitely.

She cuddled him close when he came down, his head against her chest, and he could feel her heartbeat against his ear, beating heavily, but it calmed him down immensely, to know that she was still here with him, they had survived thus far (sort of) and they were in each other's arms.

“You went away there for a while, didn't you?” she asked him softly, her voice almost startling him.

He nodded. He was sure she could see the blush on his cheeks. He had never felt anything like this during sex before, in all of his years he had never experienced this.

One of her hands came to rest on his chest, on his scars, his heart beating wildly underneath it. His shaft still lay semi-erect against her leg.

When he had caught his breath, he shuffled up the bed to lay face to face with her, and they kissed a little, hands roaming each other's bodies.

“We have actually gone to space,” he whispered, starting to put words to his mindblowing orgasm, “but that felt incredibly underwhelming now that I saw stars just then.”

She smiled, and he could swear he saw her blush. She had all right to - his best orgasm in, well, thirty-something years of sex, was attributed to her name. And they had barely gotten started, or at least, he hoped.

“I love you,” she whispered. His feet started searching for the throw he knew he kept at their feet, and covered them with it eventually.

He couldn't remember anything that happened during his orgasm, a clown with a trombone could have walked in and he probably wouldn't have noticed, so he was afraid that he'd left her hanging, had no idea if she had come with him. His hand travelled south and covered her flesh, and he found her drenched, that was the only word to describe it, both with his seed drying on her skin, but also her own arousal directly at the center.

“I'm not a toaster,” she mumbled, and he frowned at her statement, before chuckling a little. He had literally no idea what she was talking about.

“What?”

“I don't have an on/off button. You don't just push a button.”

He flicked his finger against her clit and she pretended not to be faltered by his touch, but he could see her pupils dilating again, her lips falling apart ever so slightly.

“Right.” She was more like an accordion in everyday life, difficult to play but when you knew which buttons _not_ to press, you could be pleasantly surprised.

He didn't give her time to respond. He couldn't stop himself from dipping one finger into her, and she sighed, a smile pulling at her lips. He kissed them as he slowly started moving his finger inside her, but eventually he wanted to settle for watching her, his own pleasure not clouding his vision this time, and as she held onto his wrist with one hand, the other in his neck, he added a second finger.

She was so incredibly beautiful, always had been, always would be. While time had punched him in the face, his youthfulness had not been able to stand the test of time, as per a miracle, she still looked the same as when he had met her, over thirty years ago. And while she was writhing in his arms, gasping, sighing, moaning, he fell for her just a little more.

His thumb started brushing against her clit, and she let out a strangled cry, he picked up the pace of his thrusting fingers, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside her, her cheeks turned red, her breath labored. He felt himself come back to life but no, this was about her pleasure, not his, although it certainly was a pleasure to watch her like this.

“Phil,” she breathed, he couldn't get enough of hearing his name falling from her lips, and his fingers started moving faster, still gentle enough not to hurt her, but rough enough to amplify the friction inside her, and then she seemed to be free falling, her head thrashing to the sides, his name repeated over and over again, as she came around his fingers, still thrusting lightly to draw out her orgasm for as long as possible.

“Oh,” he breathed, and she smiled with her eyes closed, her walls still contracting around him, and he wished he could keep his fingers inside her forever, but that would make office work a pain.

He pulled out his fingers and she pouted, but just as she opened her eyes, he started licking his fingers clean, a mixture of himself and her, but mostly her - her taste was marvelous, and he was determined to have his head between her legs at some point during the night. If it wasn't tonight, then hopefully in the very near future. He hoped she would want to repeat this again, would accept him in her bed.

Her orgasm ebbed away and she was cuddly. In the aftermath of her orgasm, as she was calming down and catching her breath, she cuddled into his side, and he loved her. So much. He couldn’t believe his luck, couldn’t believe she had still admitted to loving him despite the things he’d done. He couldn’t believe that she had wanted to take this step with him.

“I’m sorry for the things I did,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against hers. He would have expected her to shake her head, dismiss his attempts at apologizing, but she simply nodded.

“Thank you.”

“I will keep you in mind more often from now on.”

“Hmm.”

He thought she was falling asleep, as her hands stopped roaming his body, but then she opened her eyes and looked at him.

“I’m still angry, you know.”

“I didn’t expect anything less.”

She nodded. “I hope you know that.”

He did. He had known her for decades, and in all those years he had hardly seen her angry. Disappointed, yes, pissed, of course - but this time around, when it had come to him, she was furious. Yet he knew it wasn’t just anger, it was a helplessness, too, being unable to save him from himself and having to watch him sacrifice himself for the greater good, it had sparked her outrage, and the only way to diffuse some of the tension had been to tell him that she loved him. It was a last resort type of thing, and he had honestly never expected her to ever use it.

“I’m sorry.”

She put her head in the crook of her neck and his arm wrapped around her tightly, pulling her as close as she could be.

“Phil? Thank you for insisting to go to a bed.”

“Yeah?”

“I don't want to get dressed for the next six years.”

He chuckled and tightened his hold on her. His heart was filled to the brim with the image of the love of his life in his arms, still slightly out of breath after some incredible sex.

She was the love of his life. When he had met her, he was quite frankly intimidated by her when she had stood up for him on the first day of class. They hadn't seen each other again for years until they had met again during their first mission. She had floated in that bay for hours and had been majorly pissed off, and he had developed a (though admittedly, childish) crush. He couldn't have known, however, what she would become over the years - he had fallen in love with her, with every punch she threw his way, every sarcastic comment, and he had been content with his few girlfriends, Audrey, Rosalind, but he had always had a tiny voice in the back of his mind that he would never truly be happy with them. He knew it wasn't fair to them, especially considering Melinda May had always remained taken by ‘anybody’ but him, it seemed. But he had loved to be around her, even if they could never be together the way he desired them to be. Every time she had dumped her next random civilian, he had wanted to ask her out, but he had never had the courage. He was truly a coward. He could not change that about himself, but he was glad she still accepted him, cowardness and all. She was much braver than him.

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” she asked him eventually, and her tone made him chuckle, her hands grasping for him. “I was just getting started.”

He smiled as she kissed him again, shutting him up like she had many times before during that day, and he was beginning to like this side of her - not taking his shit, shutting him up, putting him in his place. At the end of the day, however, she was in his arms, kissing him, telling him she loved him, and that was really the most important part of it all.

She rolled onto her side, hooked her top leg over his hip, and they reconnected almost on instinct (with a little help from her hand, and the feel of her delicate fingers on his shaft brought it back to life), no need for preparation, their kissing seemed to be enough. He was certain this would be their reality for the entirety of the evening and night, for he needed to get this out of his system, needed to make up for decades of pining after her.

He loved her. And she loved him. All was right in Phil Coulson’s heart.

 

~...~

 

He awoke early in the morning, every single muscle in his body hurting, but he quickly remembered the reason for his soreness, as his Melinda was pressed into his side, hair mussed from all the times he had ran his hands through it. She looked like a mess, but she was so incredibly beautiful, because he knew the reason why, knew it had been his hands on her skin, in her hair, his lips on hers, that had caused her to look so disheveled.

He looked at his alarm clock - 03.32 am. He still had ample time to look at her sleeping-

-or so he thought.

The silence was ended abruptly by a phone ringing, his phone. He groaned, sat up slightly while still holding her in his arms, and looked for his pants. He only noticed then that their clothes were thrown all around the room, and he let a smile spread across his face, reminded of their need to feel skin against skin.

He reached his phone on the sixth ring, and fought to keep his voice sounding relatively normal. He didn't necessarily want the entire world to know about him and Melinda before they had discussed it, first.

“Coulson.”

“Oh my GOD. Thank GOD. Jesus, Coulson, we've been looking for you for hours, where the hell have you been? And where the hell is May?!”

“Daisy, I-"

“Forget it! Damnit, I swear, I will kill you myself one of these days!”

Melinda had started moving in his arms as soon as he had stated his name, and he had kept his eyes on her the whole time, not wanting her to wake up yet, but at least now he could look into her beautiful eyes again.

Daisy was screaming into the phone so loudly that even Melinda could hear her, and while still brushing the sleep out of her eyes, she sat up. The throw he had covered them with again and again, before giving in to their lust, again, slipped off her shoulders and it revealed her breasts to his sight, damn, if their daughter hadn't been on the other end of this call, he would have taken one of Melinda’s breasts in his mouth and suck her into oblivion.

He noticed his ego had been properly tended to during the night, because he wouldn't have dared to take such liberties before. He was generally a well-behaved man when it came to sex, always making sure that the lady came first and was properly comfortable, remaining a bit passive, almost, but with Melinda, she pulled out an entirely different side of him, taking what he wanted, because she showed him that she loved it, loved to make love with him in every sense of the word. He had always fantasized about making love with her, and the reality of it was even better than expected.

She would demand him to be active, not just search out her orgasm and pleasure like he often did, but chase his own, too. She wanted him to feel as good as she was feeling - luckily for him, that included a lot of touching his shaft from her side, and she had even had her lips wrapped around him at one point during the night.

He couldn't believe how good she made him feel.

“Is that Daisy?” she croaked, and he nodded silently, knowing Daisy could probably hear Melinda, too.

“Wait, is that… are you… oh. My. _GOD_. OH MY GOD. FINALLY.” Phil held the phone away from his ear, and Melinda smiled at him, so he smiled, too, though he was still a little nervous about the fact that Daisy now knew they were together.

Daisy kept ranting and screaming on the other side, but Melinda leaned up and kissed his lips, so all thoughts except her were pushed from his mind, and he could faintly make out that she took the phone from him and put it beside them, and considering Daisy’s voice stopped sounding through the device, Melinda had probably ended the call.

She climbed into his lap, her arms around his neck, and he slipped into her so easily, he almost forgot how old they were, well, he was. Strangely enough, they were always ready for a next round, and he had insisted many times on preparing her well, kissing her all over, but she had proven that she was always ready for him. As for him, well, it only took her lips against his or her hand grabbing his length for him to grow a considerable erection, like the goddamn Pavlov effect, knowing if she kissed or touched him like that, he would soon be deep inside her. He would never be able to touch her and not fantasize about making love with her.

“I'm an old man, Melinda,” he panted, putting his forehead against hers, and he could see her need in her eyes, pupils dilated, cheeks red. “Give me a break.”

She slid up and down his erection a couple of times and smiled. He knew he was hard, had been since that damn throw had revealed her delicious breasts.

“You're sending me conflicting messages.”

He chuckled and helped her slide up and down, until they picked up a by now familiar pace, her breasts wiggling enticingly before him, and he couldn't stop himself, needed to suck them, fill his hands with them.

She sighed and moaned in his arms, and he loved listening to her, watching her, loving what their lovemaking was doing to her. He briefly wondered how he would ever be able to look at her and not think of how her body felt against his, how her orgasms came all the way from her toes, how good she made _him_ feel.

“Could have given a heads up,” they heard through the door, and Melinda froze for a moment, looked at his face, but he must have shown either amusement or love to spur her on, because she just smiled and continued her movements. He loved her devil-may-care attitude.

“We wouldn't have been looking for you all night long!”

Another voice joined Daisy’s furious screams, but this voice was less angry.

“I told you they were fine. You wouldn't listen to me.” It was Elena. If anyone shared Melinda’s attitude, it was Elena.

The voices were silent and for a moment, Phil wondered if they had left, but Daisy had sounded really pissed and tired, so he knew she wouldn't let it slide. But really, for her own sanity, it would be better if she left well enough alone.

“Daisy, come with me.”

Melinda slowed down her movements and bowed down to whisper in his ear.

“If we don't correct this behavior now, she might actually walk in one day.”

He both chuckled and cringed at that image, more for Daisy’s sake than theirs, but he realized it was probably true. They had a lot to teach her, still.

He buried his face in between her breasts, without a doubt one of the best places to have his head, aside from between her legs, and one hand steadied her against his chest while the other travelled south to gently massage the bundle of nerves he found there.

Out of reflex, she let out a loud moan, and as if on cue, they heard heavy boots walking away and one single voice remaining.

“Oh my god, you're doing _it, right now_. I think I'm traumatized.”

Another familiar voice, Mack it seemed, tried to convince her to leave. It didn't appear to be working. Why was Daisy so stubborn?

Melinda had stopped to care minutes before, didn't care if anyone heard them, didn't care if anyone was traumatized or grossed out. They had already given them lots of hints, and therefore nothing that unfolded right in that moment could be blamed on Phil nor Melinda.

She was close, he could feel it in the way she pushed for closer contact, confirm that he was there and wouldn't leave her, her lower muscles clamping on his length, and he looked at her briefly, wondering whether she was really going to do this. She pushed her chest against his face, spurring him on, and when he took one rosy nipple in his mouth, she threw her head back and came, quite loudly, and he hadn't expected her to be so loud, knowing she wanted to prove a point to their friends. Her sexy noises, however, unexpectedly brought out his own orgasm, until he lay as a crying mess in her arms, his head against her chest, her equally frantic heartbeat grounding him.

“Gross,” they heard, and Phil rolled his eyes, wondering how in the world he would ever face their friends after this, but Melinda just smiled at him as they sank down and into each other's arms.

“They'll be fine,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the lines on his skin, and he felt incredibly safe with her, knowing she would protect him with everything she had. When he was younger, he couldn't have imagined to be the damsel-in-distress in his later years, but he would love to be saved by her. “They have sex too, you know? My room was next to Hunter and Bobbi’s for months. And I once caught Mack and Elena in a supply closet.”

Her face was a picture and he chuckled, imagining her laying in bed, grumpy that she was kept awake by these to her annoying sounds, and Phil suddenly understood why she had disliked Hunter so much.

“Melinda?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you so much.”

“Hmm.”

Her anger from the day before had disappeared somewhere after her fourth orgasm and instead she had showered him with love, something he had never expected to receive from her, but was welcoming with open arms.

“I love you, too.”

 

~...~

 

Melinda May was on cloud nine. She couldn't remember the last time she had ever felt like this, so lovestruck, smiling instinctively when she saw him, wanting to be close to him, kiss him, have him moving deep inside her, touching places she had thought had died for sure. Her body was well tended to, her lower body sore, but he had been so gentle with her when needed, and rough when she had convinced him she wouldn't break, and so her soreness was satisfying, reminding her of who had touched her all night long.

She had overslept a little so she was unable to do some thai chi and still throw herself into daily activities at a normal time, and on normal days it would ruin her mood, but she was still buzzing from last night. He was still asleep, so she kissed his lips and went to take a shower. She almost regretted washing off their night together but she would not be able to focus on any work with his seed between her legs.

She went to get some breakfast for them and met Daisy in the makeshift kitchen. The young woman was unable to meet her eyes and May rolled her eyes, perfectly fine with ignoring the elephant in the room.

“I'm happy for you,” Daisy said in one breath, breaking the silence. May kept her back towards her, working on the breakfast, pretending not to have heard her. “I didn't mean to act the way I did.”

May looked at Daisy, the girl’s eyes cast towards the ground, avoiding May altogether. May remained silent, like always.

“I just wanted you guys to be safe. With everything that has happened, I was just… afraid that something had happened. Or that you had finally killed Coulson.”

Daisy shook her head. “And then when I found out that you were… I just… I have seen the looks on your faces for years. I guess I just… wanted to make sure that it was real. That Mom and Dad were really finally okay.”

May looked at her for a while, judging the sincerity of this young woman who she considered her daughter, but found she was only speaking the truth. She put the tray she had prepared on the counter and stepped closer to Daisy.

“You should never ask for information you don't want to know.”

Daisy nodded. “I never had the trauma of walking in to my parents having sex. I guess I caught up with that at age thirty.”

May smiled and Daisy chuckled, and the young girl reached out and put a hand on May’s arm, smiling softly.

“I hope it was everything you expected it to be.”

That made May frown. It sounded weird coming from her adoptive daughter, but it didn't make her feel uncomfortable like she had expected to become while discussing this subject. It was so early still, May had no right to name this, whatever it was she had with Coulson, it was really too early. But she couldn't deny that he made her feel good, appreciated, loved. He would look at her like she was a goddess, and she didn't deserve that, but his hands felt so good on her skin, his lips against every part of her body. He was understanding, left enough space to breathe, but he wouldn't shy away from grabbing her impossibly close. To imagine she felt like she had been having sex with him for years, while it was only one night, confirmed to her how many times they had made love so far. She wouldn't be surprised if he wouldn't get out of bed for the entire day. She would happily join him.

“Well,” Daisy said, pulling May out of her daydream, “I guess I don't have to worry about you two, huh?”

“I guess not.”

“Just be kind to him. He means the world to me.”

May grabbed the tray and moved to walk out of the kitchen, but not before uttering some final words.

“He is my world, too.”

They weren't too different after all, Melinda May and Daisy Johnson.

 

~...~

 

He was laying practically the same way as when she had left, completely knocked out, and she wondered briefly whether it had been a good idea to go at it like rabbits all night long, but then realized she wouldn't have done anything differently if she had to do it again.

She put the platter on the bed, sitting against the headboard and watching him.

He was on his stomach, the sheets covered him only up to his waist, so she could see his bare back, his strong arms hugging his pillow. She had seen his bare arms before that night, when he had joined in their fights, something he rarely did just for the sole reason that there were always people around who were better at fighting than him - he always preferred to be a leader, even subconsciously. He was the best leader she could think of. His arms, however, were not made for fighting - these arms were made to protect, to shield, to support, to comfort.

She sipped her tea in silence and noticed how he slowly woke up, scrunching his nose adorably, before opening his eyes and looking right at her. He was practically still asleep, his eyes clouded by it, but a smile pulled on his lips, and she chuckled at the sight.

He was too adorable.

“‘Eeey.”

“I brought breakfast in bed.”

He smiled even brighter and moved to sit up. He kissed her deeply, the sleep slowly leaving him as she responded eagerly, but they had to eat something first before they would undoubtedly make love again.

They sat side by side in relative silence, having their breakfast. She finished first, and spent some time brushing his hair back into its best shape. Her fingertips trailed down the side of his face while he was eating, but he froze and looked at her, his croissant still in his cheeks. He seemed to enjoy that she was touching him like this.

“I saw Daisy when I got us breakfast.”

He swallowed while his smile dropped, and he started blushing out of nowhere, his eyes breaking with hers.

“How was she?”

“A little uncomfortable. Well, a lot. But she wants us to be happy. Wants _you_ to be happy.”

She could see a smile appearing on his lips, even though his face was turned away from her. She put a hand on his arm and he looked at her again.

“She's a good kid,” she started. “Still has a lot to learn, but don't we all. At least she has you.”

He looked up at that, some croissant crumbles in the corners of his mouth.

“And you.”

She shook her head. She had never been a loving person, always managing to ruin the best things she had in life, like her relationship with her parents, with Andrew, and she was surprised that Phil could still smile at her.

“You’re as much a mother to her as I am a father.”

“I’m not a mother.”

“Maybe not. But she depends on us. She sees in us… the parents she’s never had. And I can’t blame her, you’re so strong, respectful, patient, exactly what a mother should be like. And I… well, I have a retro gadget collection. Perfect Dad material.”

She laughed at that and he smiled. He was such a dork, and she loved him. They continued their breakfast in silence, and she knew it was hardly like her, but she put her head on his shoulder when he finished. She knew she was cuddly after sex, but they were basically sober now, so she hoped she could set her cuddly part aside when they would get back to work.

His fingers ran through her hair and she looked at them, amazed by how much he adored every part of her, even her hair, even her belly button, her tiny toe. Eventually, he pulled her close by pulling on her hair and she smiled before their lips linked, and she fought not to deepen it, wanted to cherish his tender side, such a gentleman, almost innocent in a way. She hadn't noticed in the beginning, a little caught up in her own pleasure, but she found out that he was quite passive in bed, by the books and calculated like he usually was. Instead, she wanted him out of his mind with lust, wanted him to grab her and kiss some sense into her and pound that amazing piece of flesh into her like he meant it. After she had blown him, however, she knew they were getting somewhere, and now he would just grab her arms and situate her how he wanted it, to bring them both inexplicable pleasure. She knew he'd had fantasies about this, too - who was she to stop him from letting them become reality?

But no matter how much of a gentleman he still was, they were both adults, and he was still deliciously naked, and as she pulled away slightly from him to look at him, she saw his erection towering underneath the sheets. She made an act of rolling her eyes, causing him to smile.

“We only had breakfast,” she deadpanned, pretending that the sight of each other wasn’t enough to turn them on.

“Morning wood.”

“Right.”

“I’ll have you know, morning wood is actually a sign of healthy blood flow.”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes at him again. She put her hand on him through the fabric and he gasped, leaning in to bite her neck. Well, that would become a massive hickey if he didn’t stop soon.

“Oh, fuck it,” she breathed and pulled her top over her head, having so precariously dressed with the intention of going out and doing stuff, being productive, but he was making it very difficult.

“With pleasure,” he whispered with a wicked smile on his lips, and she knew they were screwed, literally, because they would spend another couple of hours in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Also, FYI, I'm still dutifully working on Mama May, but I want it to be finished entirely before I publish it, because I keep adding scenes in between and I don't want to miss any of the plot bunnies that are running around in my head. I'm currently at 78k+ words and going strong! I love writing that baby!


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